Double Dare

Copyright © 2023 Nordika Night All rights reserved.The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No portion of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.ISBN: 9798376406540Cover Design: Nordika NightEditor: Jenn HeathersProofreader: Sarah (sh.editsbooks) To those in relationships society doesn't understand. content warning A reminder that Double Dare is book 4 in the Dare Brothers series and must be read in order. This book touches on topics and relationship dynamics that are not conventional. Please keep an open mind; if you don't enjoy the dynamic, that's okay too. This is the last main book from Laken, Kade and Jed's POV. While there are no specific triggers within this book, our characters' thought processes can be a bit self-degrading and repetitive at times—it felt natural. We all overthink! Be mindful of: brothers in sexual situations together (no touching), voyeurism, exhibitionism, all the swears, photo & video sharing, slight traumatic flashback, smoking, excessive drinking, and mature content. As always, there is no shame in the Dare house! Chapter 1 The worst part about fighting is not knowing the reason behind it. Kade comes at me hard. I barely have time to block his assault before his knee slams into my gut and his fist cracks against my jaw. My teeth clack together with my cheek between them, and blood is drawn, pooling in my mouth to fuel my confused rage. I shake my head, staunching this uncertainty and refusing to lose the fight. This is my sport, and like hell am I going to let him beat me at it. I go on offense, landing a kick to his hamstring that has him stumbling back. While he’s off balance, I land a few more blows, bringing a gush of blood from his nose. He shoves me off, wiping his face with his already bloody hands, his eyes crazed, his muscles coiled, his confusion just as obvious as mine. But what he has that I don’t is guilt. He thinks he deserves this beating, but I can’t really feel the strength of that through my clouded mind. We circle each other like caged animals. The fence around the octagon keeps us contained, but our need to hash it out and let it out is the only true thing keeping us inside the ring. Feelings. We suck at feeling them. “Stop holding back, asshole,” Kade snarls at me like a monster, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Stop being a pussy and actually fight me,” I snap back, my fists raised and the fight still in me. Taunting him is the language I speak best, and at a time like this, it comes out as my default setting. He takes the bait. We beat the shit out of each other until we’re panting, bloody, exhausted and slightly less pent up, and then we keep going until our arms are too weak to land proper punches. He stumbles into the cage, bent over and breathing hard, blood dripping from his nose and mouth to slick down his sweaty, tattooed chest. The sight of him bleeding makes me feel a little better about the state I’m in. I swear to fuck this cut in my eyebrow is never going to fully heal. I watch him out of the corner of my eye to make sure he isn’t going to come back at me, but while my lungs remind me that smoking isn’t a good hobby for an athlete, and my legs tremble from something worse than exhaustion—the comedown from adrenaline—I get all confused again. What the fuck are we even fighting about? Is this about the bet? Is it about what happened last night in the truck? Am I hating myself and taking it out on him, or am I hating him because he wants my girl and I’m afraid to lose her? But…I’m not afraid to lose her. Not really. I know she’s mine and things might be changing, but she’s going to be mine when everything is said and done, so that’s not the reason either. I knew I was confused, but the more I try to make sense of it, the worse my thoughts get all tangled up. I need whiskey to loosen their threads and a smoke to settle them down. Jesus. “I’m done,” I tell him, leaning against the cage. “I’m done, Kade.” He’s glaring at me, trying to rev me back up because he wants this beating. He’s the one who crossed the line, but I’m the one who told him to, and Laken is the one who crossed it with him. She should be here, kicking both our asses, calling us idiots, and solving this thing before we die from a lack of understanding. “Like fuck you are,” he says. I shake my head, turning around so I don’t have to look at his guilty face. I don’t even know why his guilt is bothering me so much, but I want to knock him out just so his eyes close and hide it from me. “Fucking pussy,” he mutters under his breath. Okay, back in it. With whatever meager bits of energy I have left, I go at him hard. My confusion gets replaced with a surge of adrenaline, and I crack him in the gut so hard he goes down. He manages a wild swing that catches my already messed up eyebrow, and then I straddle him, pounding into him while he fights me off. When he bucks his hips and my body is too weak to stay on top, we both crumple to the mats, entirely spent. I breathe hard, staring at the ceiling of my gym, listening to him pant beside me. I’m bleeding all over the place, but the energy in my